Super Procrastinator

It’s 11:03. I should be working on a take home final that I was given a week ago. It is due in the morning, as is the FOMC project that was assigned the very first day of the semester.

I’ve got plenty of time. Eight hours until I have to awake and shower and give this presentation. So, why am I blogging instead of doing much needed studying?

Because this is who I am; this is what I do. I upload all of my hopes and dreams and fears and anxieties and then take care of the task at hand.

I’m glad I handed off my copy of Glenn Beck’s book to Eric when he left. I was doing myself a kindness more than I was him. If the book were here, I’d be reading it, and that would take longer than watching the Dexter season finale and then blogging my cares away.

I’m not sure that I can impart to you how very tired I am, in body, mind and spirit. The bishop of the ward I was visiting today told a story that was touching, but not overly so, and I felt the tears fall. Not lopping tears, but not baby ones, either.

All the emotions are so close to the surface and this is not how I operate. Feelings are best burried deep down where they are not easily found, seen, or heard.